~Jennie’s~

“They’ll be sending the bill tomorrow.”

That’s what the pediatrician says calmly, like she doesn’t realize those words will swallow me whole. I hang up without replying. My phone drops to the couch like it’s heavy with guilt.

Blue is fine now. The fever passed. But they had to run last-minute tests—bloodwork, specialist consultations, and that twenty-minute emergency oxygen session. It added up. It always adds up.

I rub my palms together. My knuckles are dry, cracked from over-sanitizing, but that’s not the part that stings.

The part that stings is knowing I have Reo’s black titanium card buried in my drawer upstairs. I also have the house account...